Villain

by Shuichi Yoshida

  “I noticed that the rope tying down the load on the back of my truck had broken,” the old man was explaining, “so I stopped right at that curve over there. I got out and happened to glance over the edge of the cliff and saw something stuck in a tree. When I looked more closely … I couldn’t believe my eyes.”

  That same morning, Suzuka Nakamachi arrived at the coffee shop in the Mitsukoshi department store just after ten a.m. She had an appointment with a client, the first contract she’d managed to land in some time. Though the premiums for the new account were neglible, the client had promised he’d introduce her to his cousin and his wife, which could mean more business for her.

  They were scheduled to meet at ten-thirty, so she had a little time. Suzuka decided to phone a friend, a guy named Yosuke Tsuchiura, who attended Seinan Gakuin University. She was hoping to use this opportunity to get closer to Keigo. She’d liked him for some time.

  Yosuke and Suzuka were both from Saitama Prefecture and had been classmates in high school. After Yosuke graduated he decided to attend a private university in Fukuoka, where he had no relatives or any connections, and his friends were surprised. Why Fukuoka of all places? they asked him. “If I’m going to go to college,” Yosuke explained, “I’d like to go someplace where I don’t know anybody.” Suzuka alone found the idea appealing.

  After she graduated from a junior college outside Tokyo, she felt exhausted trying to find a job there and she suddenly recalled his words. She wasn’t chasing after him, but two years after Yosuke moved to Fukuoka, so did she. They saw each other fairly often, and though their relationship wasn’t totally platonic, they didn’t consider themselves a couple.

  Yosuke must have still been asleep when she called. “Ah—hello?” he answered sleepily, a bit annoyed.

  “You’re still sleeping?”

  “Suzuka? What time is it?”

  “It’s after ten. Don’t you have classes today?”

  Yosuke gradually woke up. She quickly apologized for waking him, and turned to the real reason for her call. “There’s a guy named Keigo Masuo a year ahead of you in school, right?”

  “Keigo?”

  “You know—when we were drinking in that bar in Tenjin, you pointed him out.”

  “Oh, Keigo. Right.”

  “Do you know his phone number?”

  “His phone number?”

  Suzuka could detect a hint of jealousy, and it gave her a tiny thrill.

  “One of my co-workers is supposedly going out with him, and she’s been out of touch since yesterday. So I was wondering if you could tell me how to contact him.” Suzuka tried to make it sound straightforward.

  “No, I don’t know his number. He’s a year above me and he’s not really the kind of guy who hangs out with someone like me,” Yosuke said, self-deprecatingly.

  “So you don’t know his number?’

  “No, I don’t.… Oh—wait a sec. You know, I think I heard some rumor about him a couple of days ago. They said he’s disappeared.”

  “Disappeared?”

  “Yeah. The word’s going around that he hasn’t been in his apartment the last few days, and apparently didn’t go back home to see his parents, either.”

  “So what happened? He just vanished?”

  “I think he’s off on a trip by himself. His folks run an inn in Yufuin so he’s got to be loaded, right?”

  Yosuke was so casual about it that Suzuka started to find his explanation plausible. Keigo had gone off on a trip.

  “The thing is, though, one of the girls at work was supposed to meet him yesterday in our neighborhood.”

  “Yesterday? Then maybe it’s just a rumor after all, about him disappearing,” Yosuke said. “He must still be there, at his place.”

  Suzuka could picture them—Yoshino and Keigo—making out on his bed.

  The truth was, Suzuka had fallen in love with Keigo the moment she first saw him in the bar in Tenjin, but the more she’d heard about him from Yosuke and his friends, the more she felt he was out of her league. When Suzuka had heard Sari and Mako, in the courtyard at their apartment building, talking about how Yoshino and Keigo were going out, she frankly didn’t buy it. Everything she’d heard about Keigo indicated that he led a flamboyant life—he was the best-known guy in his college and he was dating a local newscaster. Could a man like this really be going out with someone like Yoshino who was—among the girls at their building—at best only slightly above average?

  After finishing her morning rounds collecting premiums from her main clients, Sari anxiously hurried back to the Hakata branch office. She’d e-mailed Yoshino several times while making her rounds, with no response, and on her breaks she’d called Yoshino’s cell, which immediately went to voice mail. She knew this could mean anything but still, ever since Sari had seen the morning TV report on the murder at Mitsuse Pass, she’d felt uneasy.

  As soon as she got back to the Hakata branch, she phoned Yoshino’s office. Please, let her be there, she prayed, at the same time feeling she wouldn’t be. Her finger shook as she dialed.

  The middle-aged woman who answered the phone gave her the same message as in the morning: Yoshino wasn’t at work.

  “She was going to go directly to see clients this morning and be here by eleven. It, uh, doesn’t look like she’s back yet, though.”

  Sari hung up and glanced around the office, empty during lunch hour. The section chief was gone, the tag on his desk turned over to indicate that he was out. The instant Sari saw this she thought, That’s it. I’ll call the Tenjin branch one more time and get Yoshino’s parents’ phone number.

  Just then, from the TV in the next room, she heard the beginning of another report on the discovery at Mitsuse Pass. Drawn by the sound, Sari drifted into the reception area. No one else was there to turn around at the click of her high heels on the floor.

  The reporter, a helicopter above him droning over the valley where the body had been discovered, was listing the characteristics of the dead woman.

  “Sari …”

  Sari turned. She’d been so engrossed in the scene on TV she hadn’t noticed Mako.

  “Have you heard from Yoshino?” Mako asked. She looked more plaintive than worried.

  Sari shook her head. “Take a look,” she said, and pointed to the screen.

  The scene changed from the deep valley to an illustration of the characteristics of the dead woman. The physical description matched Yoshino, as did the hairstyle and clothes she’d been wearing when they’d said goodbye to her last night.

  Sari took Mako’s hand and tugged her away from the TV. Mako had been too scared to watch the TV at her own office after the morning meeting, and before she knew it, she’d come over to Sari’s branch.

  “Shouldn’t we let somebody know?” Sari said.

  “But who would we tell?” Mako asked forlornly.

  “How about the section chief? Oh, Mako, d’you know Yoshino’s parents’ phone number?”

  “That’s right! Maybe she went back home.” Mako nodded, relieved, and pulled her cell phone out of her bag.

  As Mako made the call, Sari looked back and forth between her and the broadcast from Mitsuse Pass.

  “Hello, my name is Mako Adachi. I was wondering if Yoshino is there?” The phone had apparently rung for some time before anyone answered. Mako spoke hurriedly, glancing in Sari’s direction.

  “Ah, no—thank you. It’s so nice to talk with you.… Uh, no.… No.… I see.… No.…”

  Mako held the phone away from her, cupped her hand over it, and said to Sari, “What do you think? Is it okay to tell them that Yoshino didn’t come back last night?”

  “Tell them we’re calling ’cause Yoshino said something about going back to her parents’ home this afternoon. Tell them she may very well be coming back here soon.”

  Sari listened as Mako repeated her lie. Sari began to feel that all their fears were groundless.

  Mako hung up and said, quite casually, “They just said to tell her to ca
ll them when she gets back.”

  Sari and Mako sat for a while, watching the continuing TV coverage, going round and round about whether they should tell their general manager or even the police, or just wait a while longer to see if Yoshino came back.

  Then Suzuka returned to the office.

  “Any luck getting Keigo’s phone number?” Sari called out to her.

  With one eye on the TV, Suzuka ran over.

  “He seems to have disappeared.”

  Sari and Mako exchanged a look. “Disappeared?” they chorused.

  “Yeah. I didn’t hear this from him directly, naturally, but from a friend of his friend. The last couple of days nobody can get in touch with him. Maybe disappeared isn’t the right word. Seems like he might have just gone on a trip by himself somewhere.”

  “Wait a sec!” Mako said loudly.

  “He was supposed to meet up with Yoshino at the park last night!” Sari continued.

  “You still haven’t got in touch with her?” Suzuka said, turning to the TV.

  “No, not yet,” Sari and Mako said, both shaking their heads.

  “Don’t you think you should tell somebody? The whole thing about Keigo disappearing might just be a rumor, and maybe he actually did hook up with Yoshino.”

  Suzuka was suddenly acting very friendly, and Sari felt that she was being forced into doing something she’d rather not.

  “The police?” Sari said, tilting her head.

  Suzuka replied, “Telling her general manager’s enough right now, don’t you think? Not by phone, but just go there and tell him directly. I’ll go with you.”

  Sari and Mako felt as if Suzuka was leading them by the hand as, together, they exited the building.

  It was only a few minutes by taxi to the Tenjin branch where Yoshino worked. The TV was on there, too, and several staff members were watching events unfold as they ate their lunches.

  Nervously, all three of them made their way to see Goro Terauchi, the general manager of the Tenjin branch.

  Mr. Terauchi had been napping at his desk. Sari briefly explained their concerns. She emphasized that it might all prove groundless. But when she mentioned how much the police sketch of the victim resembled Yoshino, Terauchi turned pale.

  Terauchi was finishing his fourth year as general manager. He’d been hired by the company twenty years ago, and finally, after working furiously for years, had achieved his present position, supervising a fifty-six-person branch, the second largest in Fukuoka.

  He had a bad leg, which he dragged a little, but it didn’t interfere with his ability to do his job. His pace when he walked around the office was slow, but he was sharp at sniffing out potential new customers. In his younger days it was rumored that he flirted with older female employees near retirement, in order to get them to pass along their clients to him, which is what led to his eventually getting promoted.

  After he was promoted to general manager, Terauchi decided to start fresh. He no longer had to struggle anymore, calculating how much commission he’d earn for each client. Instead, he decided he would be a good father figure to the young female employees who were working their hardest to earn money, women younger than his own daughter.

  And in fact he always was willing to lend an ear to whatever the girls had to say. The more they talked with him, he thought, the stronger their bonds would be. He wanted to hear personal details but the girls didn’t usually seek advice about life and love. Instead they wanted to talk about the kind of professional topics he had, over the past twenty years, experienced and grown sick of: “One of the other girls is coming on to her clients,” one would say. “My relatives are starting to hate me for trying to sign them up,” another would complain.

  Still, Terauchi was proud of the fact that in his years as head of the Tenjin branch their sales had grown dramatically. The previous manager had been somewhat hysterical and many new employees had quit in protest before they’d even finished their probationary period. In the world of insurance, where the best way to get new clients is to take good care of the employees, the job of the manager is less to soothe the clients than to keep up the morale of the sales force.

  So when Sari and Mako told him they were worried about Yoshino, his first reaction was mild anger. He was worried that it might negatively affect the Tenjin branch’s reputation, that it would all lead to a fight over who would take over Yoshino’s clients. He thought Sari and the others lacked a sense of urgency over what could be something very serious.

  First, Terauchi phoned the Heisei Insurance Fukuoka branch. The receptionist didn’t seem to grasp the situation and told him roughly that she’d transfer him to the chief of general affairs.

  When the chief heard what Terauchi had to say, he replied timidly, “I … I think you’d … better call the police.” It was clear that he was hoping Terauchi would handle the whole thing.

  As Terauchi hung up, he looked up at the three girls standing in front of him.

  “I’m going to call the police now,” he said.

  “Huh? Oh—I see,” they said, nodding.

  “You said you haven’t been able to contact her since last night, correct? And the description of her clothes on TV matches?” Terauchi asked, his tone sharp. The three girls, huddled closer together, nodded fearfully.

  Terauchi dialed 911. After speaking with several detectives, he called a taxi. Sari and the others wanted to come with him, but thinking there was an outside chance he might have to identify the body, Terauchi told them he’d go alone.

  When he arrived at the precinct and identified himself at the front desk, he was immediately escorted to the fifth-floor investigation headquarters. The main detective he’d spoken to on the phone appeared, and Terauchi proffered his company ID and business card. He was immediately hustled down to the morgue. As they walked, the detective asked him details about the location of the Tenjin branch and the Fairyland Hakata apartment building.

  The experience was just as he’d seen on TV and in the movies. Incense was burning in the room, and the detective ostentatiously drew back the thin green sheet covering the body.

  There was no doubt about it. The body lying there was Yoshino Ishibashi.

  “It’s definitely her,” Terauchi gulped. He was surprised at how naturally this line came out.

  “She was strangled,” the detective said, and Terauchi’s gaze fell on Yoshino’s white neck. It was ringed with a purplish bruise.

  Terauchi remembered how Yoshino looked when she smiled, how she used to rush into the office barely in time for the mandatory morning meeting. It surprised him that he could remember so clearly the face of one employee out of the fifty-odd people who worked for him.

  As Terauchi was identifying the body, thirty kilometers away in Kurume, Yoshino’s father, Yoshio, was in his house after a late lunch, lying down, using his zabuton seat cushion as a pillow.

  From where he lay he could see into the darkened barbershop, closed as always on Mondays. With the lights out inside, the sunlight shone through the window at the front of the shop, projecting the name Ishibashi Barbershop, painted in white on the window, as a shadow on the floor.

  Yoshio had taken over the business from his father around the time that Yoshino was born. Up until then, he’d mainly hung out with his delinquent friends from the band, living off the money he’d pestered his parents to give him, but at his wife’s urging he started training at the barbershop. The year Yoshino started elementary school, his father died of a cerebral hemorrhage. His mother had passed away ten years before, so Yoshio, his wife, and their daughter moved from their apartment into the vacant family house. Yoshio sometimes wondered how his life would have worked out if Satoko hadn’t become pregnant so early, but it was just a random thought. He couldn’t picture any other life. But truthfully Yoshio had always hated his father’s profession. He’d taken over the family business reluctantly. It was a profession he took on for his daughter, but Yoshio had started to sense the instinctive dislike Yoshino had for
her father’s work.

  As Yoshio gazed vacantly around the dark shop, Satoko called out to him from the kitchen. “You think she’s coming back?” Apparently one of Yoshino’s colleagues had called in the afternoon saying she was.

  “I bet she’ll ask us to introduce her to somebody she can sell insurance to.…”

  Yoshio had nothing else to do today, so he thought he’d ride his bike over to the station to meet her, though he knew she wouldn’t be happy about it.

  Yoshio was half dozing when the call came from the police. As if in a dream he heard Satoko say, “Yes. Yes. That’s right. Yes, that’s correct.” She called out, “Honey!” and he snapped awake. Her voice sounded far away, but echoed nearby in the tiny house.

  He rolled over and saw Satoko looming over him as if she were going to trample him, her hand cupped over the phone.

  “Honey … I, I don’t know what it’s all about.… It’s the police.…”

  Yoshio sat up. Satoko’s hand was shaking as she held the cordless phone.

  “What do they want?” Yoshio asked, leaning away from the phone.

  “You ask them.… I don’t know what they’re talking about.…”

  Satoko’s eyes were out of focus, her face drained of blood.

  Yoshio grabbed the phone from her and shouted an angry hello.

  It was a woman’s voice on the phone—slightly unprofessional, small and hard to hear. The cordless phone was always full of static and Yoshio couldn’t get used to it. “That’s normal. It’s just the signal,” Yoshino had explained, and Yoshio had been putting up with it for nearly a year. Today the static was a loud buzzing in his ears.

  Yoshino had been involved in an accident, the woman explained, so they would need to please come to the station as soon as possible for identification. “Eh? What’d you say?” Yoshio said, feeling as if he were talking more to the static than to a person.